


I am One with the Force

by Starofwinter



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Loss of Faith, Philosophy, discussions of the Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 01:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12266523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: Discussions of faith and the past in a Rebel base.





	I am One with the Force

“I didn’t know anyone was left.”  Rán looks up, startled by the voice.  A cheerful man stands beside her, and she can’t help but relax in his presence - he feels  _ warm _ , like afternoon sunlight.  His clothing looks familiar, but she can’t quite place it.  He rests a hand on her shoulder before sitting down beside her, resting his staff at his side.  “From the Coruscant Temple, I mean.  You are a Jedi, are you not?”

“There are no Jedi,” she says carefully, because while the Force rings around him like a bell, she has learned through painful experience that she can never trust anyone.  

His pale blue eyes focus on her sharply for a moment, despite his blindness, and he shakes his head.  “Perhaps not in name, sister, but in the Force?  You are a Jedi.”  He smiles and pats her shoulder.  “I am Chirrut Îmwe.”  He inclines his head, and Ran instinctively bows in return.

“You’re a Guardian,” she says, old memories of half-learned galactic texts returning, “A Guardian of the Whills.”

He smiles again, and there’s a fierce pride there, she thinks, wrapped up in the humility.  “I am.”

She smiles back, tired and worn.  “Rán Seren,” she finally says, “Former Padawan of the Jedi Order on Coruscant.”

“Former.  You are no longer?”

“My Master fell during the Purge.  There is no one left to teach me.”  Rán knows there are others, some even in the Rebellion, but those few that have not given up the Order’s ways and their titles are training the handful of younger Force-sensitives that they’ve found.  There’s no room for a tired fighter like her.  Not when she’s given up her lightsaber for a blaster, her ideals for the compromises of war, and hope has become a twisted joke among her Rebellion brethren.  

Chirrut shakes his head.  “Who taught your Master?” he asks, and she frowns, trying to parse out what he’s asking.

“His Master?” she tries.

He nods.  “Very well.  And who taught his Master?”

“His grand-Master?”

“And so on and so forth, yes?”

She nods, trying to follow along.  “Yes?”

He settles in, and she smiles a little - it twists her heart a little, just how much this feels like being an Initiate all over again, listening to the Masters as they taught.  “And in the very beginning, who taught the oldest Grand Masters?”

“The Force?”

Chirrut smiles at her proudly, and she can’t deny the little swell of pride at the approval of a teacher.  “Then tell me, who better to teach you than the Force?”

That twists a vibroblade in her chest, and her shoulders curve in on herself a little; she can’t meet his eyes.  “The Force and I have not spoken in a very long time, Guardian Îmwe,” she says quietly, trying to ignore the grief-anger-pain-loss writhing like a living thing around her heart.  She doesn’t know if she wants to reach out to it again.  She can feel it, can read signatures and intent, but she hasn’t touched it since the first impressions of  _ death _ rolled across the galaxy.  It had sent her to her knees then and-

The hand on her shoulder squeezes - warm ripples of sunlight over sand, the scent of spices in a marketplace, laughter and banter wash over her - and she breathes, slow and deep like the Creche-master taught her.  “Perhaps it’s time to start the conversation again, then.”

“I don’t know how,” Rán confesses, feeling like the unsure, unsteady apprentice she had been, before the war  _ made _ her sure, “I don’t know if it’s there anymore.”

Chirrut shakes his head with another, softer smile.  “The Force is always with us, sister.  I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.”  He cocks his head, clearly waiting for her to follow along.

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” she repeats, and feels it resonate deep within her, through everything she had closed away.

“Fear nothing, Jedi Rán Seren, for all is as the Force wills it.”  

Chirrut pats her hand before standing, leaving her clinging to the small, star-bright flicker of  _ hope _ that is just starting to kindle again in her chest.  

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic the day after watching Rogue One, but I never really figured out where I was going with it till this morning. Hope you all liked it!


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